Part 19 (2/2)

”In this cold and stormy weather? It must have been quite an important matter.”

”O, not at all, Dr. Weilen.” Her embarra.s.sment grew. ”Mamma has had the intention of going for some time, and the snow came only after her departure. Papa and myself accompanied her to the station, and I am sure that nowadays one travels comfortably and agreeably. The coupe was well-heated, and mamma and her maid had it all to themselves. So few people travel on the holidays. I should have loved to go with her, and by this time she is already at her destination. The train arrives there at 3.28.”

At first she spoke with uncertainty, as if searching for an unequivocal purpose for this trip; then her utterance became faster and faster; at the last words she looked at the clock on the mantel. A shepherd and shepherdess of old Dresden china, looking at each other tenderly, held the dial between them.

”Yes, at 3.28,” she repeated.

”Rita!” he caught her hand and held it firmly. ”Your mother has taken this trip in order to plead for me. She has granted my wis.h.!.+ Quite as a diplomatic amba.s.sador! She wished to intercede for me personally, to be my spokesman, to brush aside scruples and prejudices; to place the strange and unexpected in a proper light; to express her conviction that this desire of mine is not a whim, but a pious longing that has lain dormant in a secret corner of my heart. All this she is going to put forward in my behalf. The confidence that all have in her she will use in my favor. She is going to say to them: 'From frequent intercourse with Victor Weilen, the son of our aunt Goldine, who died at an early age, your youngest sister, Uncle Leopold, the sister of my mother,--from frequent intercourse with him we have the impression that honest feeling leads him to us; that the secret voice of blood-relations.h.i.+p called him, when he discovered that one of the family, the one whose quiet piety, whose honest belief make him appear doubly worthy of honor to those whom life has driven away from their native soil, had attained his ninetieth birthday, and like a patriarch was going to gather his own about him.

And on this occasion Victor Weilen, too, wishes to be present.'”

She looked at him in timid bewilderment. She had slowly disengaged her hand from his.

”O yes! But mamma also found it necessary to supervise the arrangements for the celebration personally. There will be so many people to come to the small town. Our relatives there are, of course, helpless; they are not used to such matters. Arrangements will have to be made in advance for the housing and entertainment of the guests.... You see, it is a special festival that is to be celebrated.”

”Do you wish to rob me of the delight of my interpretation, Miss Rita?”

There was a pained expression in his voice. ”All that might have been done by correspondence, but your kind mother in person had to justify and advocate the wish of a stranger to be one of the guests, a stranger, yet one of their own blood. For this the winter's journey, to-day, on New Year's Day, which people like to celebrate together at home. Am I right, Rita?”

”Yes,” she answered simply.

It seemed impossible to her to plead further excuses after he had discovered the honest truth.

Neither spoke for some time. He gazed at her bowed head. The silence was eloquent of inner sympathy between them. The intense quiet of the room was disturbed only by the crackling of the wood fire. It cast red, quivering reflections across the light carpet covering the floor, and glanced brightly adown the girl's dress.

After a few moments during which they were sunk in thought, he said: ”I know your mother will succeed in realizing my wish. She is a good spokesman. And I will be near you on that day, Rita--near you!”

And as though unable any longer to control his tumultuous feelings he jumped up, took her in his arms, and whispered softly in her ears, ”My Rita!”

She rested upon his bosom, as if stunned, quivering with blissful joy.

The uncertainty and misgiving that had troubled her heart throughout these many weeks was now converted into a happy reality. He loved her!

He! He raised her bowed head and read the confession of her love in the eyes that looked at him in pure radiance. Deep emotion took possession of him. She loved him with the love that springs up in the sweet, secret longings, in the pure maidenly fervor, in the rare, modest timidity of the daughters of that people from which he had at one time turned away.

As if his thoughts had been transferred to her, she slowly disengaged herself from his arms, hid her face in her hands, and relieved the oppression of her soul in tears. He led her back to the place from which he had so impetuously drawn her, seated her, then kneeled before her, and embraced her softly, tenderly. ”Rita, dear sweet Rita, my precious child. Why do you cry? What makes you sad? What frightens you?”

”Happiness.”

He drew her to him again pa.s.sionately, and said: ”You shall learn to know this happiness in all its joy. It will exalt you, not sadden you.”

”You forget what separates us,” she stammered, suddenly alarmed, and tried to free herself from his arms.

He started violently. Then he threw his head back with a proud, victorious gesture, and, caressing her, he said in a firm voice: ”That which separated us, draws us together, my love, my sweet love!” She clung to his neck, and without resistance she gave herself up to his kisses.

At dinner, Rita, to conceal from her father and Hugo the cause of her quiet and reserve, pleaded a headache. She merely mentioned the visit of Dr. Weilen; he had come to pay his New Year's call. Hugo looked at her so searchingly that she blushed, and turned away from his gaze.

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